


The Crush

by quiteanerdling



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, I suppose I had to write one eventually, Kind of..., Light BDSM, more like references to it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-05 13:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18366644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteanerdling/pseuds/quiteanerdling
Summary: Alistair has a crush. His crush has a problem. Perhaps Alistair is the solution?





	1. A Mile In Her Heels

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this on my Tumblr and never thought to save it anywhere else. Then I deleted my Tumblr and lost it. Today I found it again, Mythal be praised! So please enjoy.

Alistair always works the register in the morning. The official reason is that he’s a morning person, so he’s always cheerful and ready to deal with even the most caffeine deprived and entitled customers.The real reason is that Leliana does the scheduling and she’s a romantic at heart, so he gets to work register when The Crush comes in. Her real name is Dust Lavellan, but everyone in the shop calls her The Crush, no matter how hard Alistair argues.

She comes in at two different times, in no particular pattern Alistair has ever figured out. Some days she shows up at 7 am, hair pulled back in a messy, sweaty bun, wearing gym clothes and a hoodie, looking both energized and exhausted at the same time. Usually she’s still got one earbud in, the other hanging off her shoulder so she can hear. Early mornings she orders an extra large halla milk mocha with raspberry syrup, a scone, and one of their homemade biscuit breakfast sandwiches.

Other days she saunters in around 9:30, her hair pulled back in a high, immaculate ponytail, wearing Outfits that Alistair doesn’t understand, but which look _amazing_ on her. He’s pretty sure her clothes cost more than he makes in a year. Leliana loves her shoes, which he knows is a pretty big compliment. On late days she just orders a large halla milk latte with hazelnut, extra hot.

She always pays cash, she always tips, and she always smiles and remembers everyone’s name, even when it’s 7 am and she’s half asleep. Every once in a while if she comes in late, she brings a man with her - tall, human, gorgeous, with a mustache that should look ridiculous but somehow works, and a fancy accent. The first time Alistair saw them together his heart dropped so far down in his stomach he thought he might throw up. He moped for weeks until Mr. Mustache came in holding hands with a towering one eyed qunari who traded puns with Alistair. He upgraded both their drinks out of sheer relief.

Not that he thought he had a chance with Dust. She was obviously so far out of his league they were practically playing different sports. But still, somewhere in the very back of his brain, where fantasies lived, he was ridiculously relieved that she might still be single.

* * *

 

There were days when Dust didn’t come to the shop, but they were rare - almost every weekday she came in for a caffeine fix. Unfortunately it was 10:30 and she hadn’t been in yet. Alistair was starting to think it would be a day where she didn’t come in at all, since she almost never came in past 10 am. He was starting to feel more than a twinge of disappointment, when she stalked in dressed to kill and practically growling into her cell phone. The morning rush had ended so she was able to come right up to the counter and melt Alistair’s brain with the incredibly low neckline of her sharply cut white suit jacket. The suit jacket that had nothing under it but smooth dark skin and some very pretty gold chains. For once he was extremely happy to have a customer on the phone so he could regain his composure.

“No, I don’t give a single fuck about what your clients want, because they broke their contract and brought in _Livius Erimond!_ We made it _explicitly_ clear that was unacceptable.” Despite the fact she was keeping her voice down, her tone was so menacing it sent a chill down his spine. It also caused a stirring in his pants which was very weird and made him grateful for his apron and the counter. He’d have to have a talk with his hind brain about that one later. Much later.

Whatever the person was saying on the other end of the phone was obviously not making her happy, because her nostrils flared and her full red lips compressed into a tight line. Alistair gave himself a mental shake and grabbed two cups - an extra large and a large. He wrote Mocha? on the extra large and Latte? on the large, then held them out in front of her. Her brows drew together as she looked down, as if she were confused, then her expression briefly cleared and she mouthed “thank you” and tapped on the extra large with one long red nail. He handed the cup off to Leliana, who was probably listening to the phone call as intently as he was.

“No, I don’t _care_ , and no you don’t get to appeal to Pavus on this. The problem isn’t that he’s Tevinter, it’s that he’s grossly irresponsible. If you think for even one minute that Dorian would be any more willing to put up with this nonsense you’ve entirely lost your mind. He’d be more likely invent a new form of magic just to curse you through the phone.” Alistair rang up her drink and she dug into her red leather purse and pulled out a twenty sovereign bill and laid it on the counter. He started to give her her change but she shook her head, gave him an oddly frightening wink, and turned to walk toward the door of the patio. Alistair did his best not to stare at her backside as she walked away on towering red heels.

He completely failed, so he was still watching her pace in the weak Redcliffe sunlight when Leliana came up beside him.

“Here,” she said with a smile. “This is the perfect chance, take her her drink.”

“But I’m on register,” he protested weakly. Leliana looked at him with a kind of fond pity that he was all too used too. He hunched his shoulders and glanced outside, where Dust was gesturing sharply, as if she needed to release anger through her fingertips. Honestly he wasn’t totally sure he wanted to go outside.

“I will cover the register, it’s perfectly quiet. Go make her day better.”

Alistair took a deep breath and put his shoulders back the way they always told him to in Templar ROTC. Women loved men in imaginary uniforms, right? Of course, he hated ROTC, but that wasn’t the point, the point was… Leliana gave him a sharp poke in the side and an impatient look.

“Right, I’m going. Perfect chance to embarrass myself.” He started to walk out from behind the counter and then put the mocha down and turned back to grab one of the last scones from the pastry case. Leliana gave him an approving grin and turned to greet the customers who had just walked in.

Alistair began to weave his way through the tables full of customers to the back door. _Don’t drop the drink, don’t drop the scone, don’t be an idiot, don’t babble, don’t babble, don’t babble…_ His thoughts circled so fast he felt a little dizzy, but he kept his shoulders back and pushed the door open with his hip. Despite the sunlight it was still fairly chilly out on the patio, with only a couple of regulars desperate for even a hint of sunlight.

“Oh we’ll be having a meeting, that’s for certain, and it’s going to be on your clients’ dime. I’m billing them for every mage in that room, including my partner, and they’ll be paying for my time as well. I’m even going to bill them for the _catering_.”

Holding the oversized drink and the small bag with the scone, Alistair felt a bit silly just standing there looking at her, but he didn’t want to get in her way as she paced. She turned back in his direction, looking up at him with her icicle blue eyes. He held up the drink and the scone with a tentative smile, nearly like a shield, and got a grin back that wasn’t nearly as terrifying as expected.

“You, my friend, are a gift of the gods.” She tucked her phone between her cheek and her shoulder to take the drink and bag, which made her suit jacket shift open a bit more. Alistair’s eyes were drawn down to the smooth curves of her breasts before he snapped his eyes away as if a Chantry mother were standing behind him. He could feel a blush coming on, but Dust was already talking into her phone again, setting the drink down so she could put the scone into her purse.

“Of course not _you_ , I’m talking to my barista. _He_ is a blessing, and _you_ are a demon sent from the Fade to torture me.” She smiled at Alistair and rolled her eyes, obviously meaning to include him in the banter. He was feeling absurdly warm and fuzzy from hearing her say “my barista” as if he belonged to her in particular. Then she scowled again and he realized the moment was over. With a smile and a nod he wasn’t sure she even saw, he started to walk back inside. He stopped short when he felt a warm hand catch him by the arm. He turned around with a blink and Dust smiled at him, holding up one finger to indicate he should wait, not letting go of his arm.

“Hold on,” she barked into her phone, and Alistair froze out of pure instinct. Something about her voice made his spine snap straighter than even the most obnoxious drill sergeant had ever managed. She grabbed her phone and tucked it against her chest, giving his arm a little squeeze.

“Alistair, hon, do you guys cater?” It took a little time for the question to travel all the way to his brain past the rush of endorphins from having _The Crush_ touch him.

“Umm… yes?” He said a quick prayer of thanks to the Maker that his voice didn’t crack, even if he did sound like a moron. “Tabris is in charge of it, she’ll be in this afternoon.”

“Perfect!” Dust said with a grin. She gave his bicep one last squeeze, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to flex like a complete douchebag. She gave him a pleased, predatory smile before putting her phone back to her ear to resume her conversation. The spine chilling and pants stirring were both back, so he turned and hurried back inside before his apron became inadequate.

He really did need to have that talk with his hind brain.


	2. Not During Business Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I guess there's more of this? I was supposed to be working on run home, but instead I wrote you 3000 words of whatever the hell this is. Anyway, Alistair and The Crush have an encounter.

Alistair wasn't exactly sure how he ended up in the elegant, sleek, and really _expensive_ looking office of The Crush, but he knew that Leliana had something to do with it. Alistair almost never helped with the catering deliveries, yet there he was, standing in the lobby with Tabris, afraid to touch anything because even the carpet looked expensive. He felt huge and awkward and also small and insignificant at the same time, which was weird and uncomfortable.

"Tabris, Alistair, I'm so sorry were you waiting long?" Dust walked into the lobby through a set of dark glass doors, and every synapse in Alistair's brain came online and then immediately overloaded. She was wearing all black, another fancy suit with a low neckline and weird asymmetrical hem, though this time it looked like she was at least wearing something under the jacket… maybe. The real problem wasn’t the jacket though, it was the incredibly short skirt and the very long, bare legs.

Okay they probably weren't _that_ long, because she wasn't actually very tall, but there was just... So much skin. So much beautiful brown skin and oh Maker why had Leliana done this to him?

"Nah, just a couple minutes." Tabris reassured her with a grin. "We were going to start snooping, but you got here too quick."

Dust smiled a slow, slow smile that made Alistair want to squirm for some reason.

“Oh the lobby's no fun for snooping, we keep all the fun toys back in our offices.” Dust turned so she could open the frosted glass door for them. “Come on back and see for yourselves.”

Tabris laughed, thick brown curls bouncing as she shifted to get a better grip on the pastry boxes. Alistair was pretty sure he was missing the joke, but he smiled and hoped he didn't look too confused.

“We're not gonna get back there and find your secretary wearing a spreader bar, are we?” Tabris asked.

“During work hours?” Dust sounded shocked. “Creator's no, how gouache!”

Laughing, Tabris went through the door and Alistair followed, blushing furiously. He'd only seen spreader bars used on Cutthroat Kitchen, but Zevran had explained what they were _actually_ for and now he was desperately trying _not_ to imagine how that might work. Would he...? Would she…? _Oh no. No, no, no, not thinking about that._ He didn't have an apron or a counter to shield him today.

Dust's smile turned into something a little softer and a little less terrifying when she looked at him, waving him through the door. He shuffled carefully past her, concentrating on not touching, not even letting his shirt sleeve brush against her. All his care was for nothing because once they were in the hallway past the door, Dust patted him gently between the shoulder blades. He could just feel the tips of her long, sharp nails tapping on his back through his shirt and it made goosebumps break out all over his skin.

“Don't worry Alistair, you're perfectly safe. We'll be on our best behavior. No matter how much I occasionally want to use a ball gag on my _business partner_.” She raised her voice a little on the last words, but Alistair was having trouble processing anything besides the warm spot on his back where her hand had been. She'd touched him twice now, and both times he'd felt the ghost of her touch for way longer than he should have.

“I heard that.” Alistair jumped at the sound of a rich, masculine voice, as the human man with the mustache popped out of a door down the hallway, smirking. He was wearing some kind of very fancy … suit? Outfit? With one muscular arm bare and some kind of fancy looking sash thing draped over the other shoulder and across his chest. It was all black and trimmed with complicated patterns in gold. He made Alistair, in his plain jeans and work t-shirt, feel incredibly grubby. “Hello, I’m Dorian Pavus. You must be Tabris, and I believe your strapping young friend there is Alistair?”

“That's us.” Tabris said, and Alistair nodded and gave the man a tentative smile. The look he gave Alistair in return was very… well it was very _something_ , but he wasn't sure what.

“Sorry, we shouldn’t keep you standing in the hallway with all that stuff.” Dust slipped past him and Tabris so she could lead them down the hallway. “Dorian are you allowed in the conference room yet?”

“I am always allowed in the conference room, it's _my_ conference room!” He sounded indignant but turned to walk in step with Dust down the hall.

Determined to be on his best behavior, Alistair did _not_ look at her backside as he followed them down the hall, keeping his eyes down toward the floor. That turned out to be oddly distracting because Dust was wearing heels so high Alistair didn't know how she could walk in them. They were made of some kind of shiny black leather, with gold ankle straps and long gold spikes for heels. He was pretty sure she could use them as weapons if she needed to.

“That's a lie.” Dust said, looking over her shoulder and grinning at them. “The last time Dorian tried to use the video conferencing system he fried the entire video display. I thought our office manager was going to set him on fire without any magic powers at all.”

“Now who needs a gag?” Dorian asked testily. “You're far too fond of that story.”

Tabris was grinning, obviously delighted with the banter. She glanced over at Alistair and wiggled her eyebrows at him, and he resisted the urge to groan. Why were his friends like this? He couldn't even really tell her off. What would he say? “Stop wiggling your eyebrows at me it's confusing and embarrassing?” “Stop making jokes with the woman I have a desperate crush on about sexual things I’m not sure I completely understand?”

They finally reached the end of the hallway and another set of smoky glass doors. Dust opened one and bent forward a little to peek inside. This time Alistair’s eyes refused to follow orders and went straight to her ass. Oh Maker, that skirt was _very_ short. Just long enough to keep everything essential covered, but still short enough to make his brain try to fill in everything he was missing. She probably wore really nice underwear. No, not underwear, _lingerie_. Underwear that expensive was definitely lingerie and why oh why was he thinking about that? He could feel things _stirring_ again, and that was the absolute last thing he needed.

“Harding, are we safe to come inside? I have coffee and food.”

“It’s safe,” called a cheerful voice, “come on in.”

Dust and Dorian each pulled a door open for them, exchanging smiles as they did it. Alistair followed Tabris into the conference room, eager to put down the heavy box of coffee and serving items so they could get back out of there as quickly as possible. He wanted to go back to his regular life of seeing Dust every day at the shop, while he stood behind a register and they had a perfectly comfortable routine mapped out. Being in her space instead of his own was way too intimidating.

A pretty, red headed dwarf, with even more freckles than Leliana, cheerfully waved them over to a fancy side table make out of some kind of highly polished wood. It was the kind of table that looked like it was made out of one solid slice of some kind of giant tree. There was a long, thin tablecloth spread over it, also in black and gold, with an empty gold tray set out, as well as carefully stacked black plates. Alistair made a beeline for the table and began setting out the coffee boxes and napkins, which looked kind of ludicrous with the rest of the set up.

“Thanks again for your order, Dust.” Tabris was beginning to arrange the pastries and carefully wrapped breakfast sandwiches on the fancy tray like it was perfectly normal. “I’m guessing you guys normally go for higher end catering than your local coffee shop.”

Dust had wandered over to stand next to Tabris, and stolen a scone right out of the box, then reached over to grab a napkin from where Alistair had neatly displayed them. He concentrated very intently on setting out the travel cartons of halla and almond milk so that he wouldn’t look down her jacket. Though at least this time he was pretty sure there was something under it. A bra maybe? There was something lacy and… and he was looking. _You are going to be banished to the Void for your sins young man._ He could actually hear Mother Abigail scolding him in his head.

“Only when we’re trying to impress people with more sovereigns than sense. Since this meeting is to intimidate someone until they beg, I can have whatever I want. And you’re my _favorite_ coffee shop.”

“That’s because we’re one of the only coffee shops around that serves halla milk.” Tabris said.

“Don’t forget the extremely attractive staff, that’s also a factor I’m sure.” Alistair jumped a little, he had forgotten about Dorian. When he looked over his shoulder the man was sitting in one of the sleek black chairs around the conference table looking smug. Harding was making some last minute adjustments to a really fancy looking phone and wearing the same kind of smile of fond exasperation that Leliana usually gave him.

“Dorian, if you could please stop making me sound like a lech, that would be lovely.” Dust shook her head and took a bite out of her scone, hunching forward a little to try and avoid getting crumbs on her clothes. It was… adorable. Alistair wondered how old she was. Older than him, he was pretty sure, but elves could look deceptively young. Not that it mattered since he had zero chance of anything actually happening with her, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be curious, right?

“You were the one who started in with the ball gags.”

“ _Maker_.” Harding muttered, still poking at the phone.

Dust finished chewing her bite of scone and swallowed, licking her lips. Alistair could feel his face growing hotter by the second, and the conversation was doing nothing to stop the stirring.

“I didn’t start that, it was Tabris. She was the one who asked about spreader bars.”

“Oh _really_?” Dorian asked, and Alistair wasn’t all that into guys, but he could admit this one was really good looking, especially when he grinned like that. “My, my, no wonder you’re so fond of this charming coffee shop. I may need to become a regular myself.”

Tabris placed the last of the pastries on the tray with a flourish and turned to look at Dorian with a grin of her own. “Sorry, BDSM jokes are only for special delivery, we don’t keep them in shop.”

Alistair picked up the cardboard box he had carried the coffee up in and tried to hold it in front of his crotch as casually as possible.

“Well now I’m just disappointed.” Dorian pouted.

“All right you two,” Harding interrupted. “You’ve got exactly ten minutes to get it out of your system before I dial in Ms. Montilyet and Madame de Fer.”

Dorian gave a sigh. “Duty calls, I suppose. Lavellan I suggest you get the crumbs out of your cleavage before Vivienne sees you.”

Dust looked down at herself with a scowl, and Alistair got a tighter grip on his box and turned away, trying hard not to watch her run her hands down her chest. Unfortunately when he looked away he made accidental eye contact with Dorian, who was smiling at him in a way that made him very nervous. Alistair was pretty sure the other man knew _exactly_ what the box was for.

“Uh, Tabris we should probably get going.” They really needed to leave before Alistair embarrassed himself any worse.

“Right, like Mr. Pavus said, duty calls.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Dust, having apparently dealt with her cleav- with her _crumbs_ lead them back out of the conference room. She and Tabris chatted along the way but Alistair was focusing so hard on not looking at her ass, or her shoes, or anything else of hers, that he didn’t catch a word of it. Which was possibly why he also didn’t notice them stop and ended up barreling right into Dust.

One of the few things Alistair knew he had going for him was that he was in good physical shape. He had good reflexes, he'd played sports all through high school, done a shit ton of PT in undergrad, and still made it a point to go running and hit the gym when his schedule allowed. Sometimes when he felt like a babbling idiot he could at least console himself that he wasn’t a _clumsy_ idiot.

And then his reflexes betrayed him. The worst part was, he could see it all happening, like it was playing back in slow motion, but he couldn’t actually stop any of it. In a moment of panic he tossed the box aside so he could try to catch Dust before all six feet and one clumsy inch of him knocked her right off her towering heels and onto her very nice ass. Dust gave a cry of surprise when Alistair reached out and grabbed her, tucking her in close like she was a football and he was running for the end zone.

When he finally caught his balance they were frozen in place, and Alistair came to several terrible conclusions in order of humiliating magnitude.

First, Dust smelled _incredible_ up close, which was very distracting.

Second, which took him a few extra seconds to realize because of the distracting scent of her perfume, was that he had one hand on her back, pressing her breasts right against his chest while she clutched at his shoulders to hold herself up.

Third, even worse, was that his other hand was resting on the upper curve of her ass, pressing their hips together.

Which led to the most horrifying realization of all: the sudden panic and adrenaline rush had done nothing to alleviate the _stirrings_ , and had actually made things worse. Much worse. Meaning he had a hard on and it was pressed up against her hip through their clothes.

_Dear Maker, if you have ever loved your child, please instantly kill me and make the entire world forget I ever existed._

Dust blinked up at him for a few seconds, obviously caught off guard by suddenly being aggressively manhandled and accidentally groped by the biggest idiot in all of Ferelden. Her eyes were beautiful. Alistair longed for death. And then her lips, which were _also_ beautiful, twitched like she was trying incredibly hard to hold back laughter.

“I take it that’s a yes to leaving the box here so we can recycle it for you?” There was definitely laughter in her voice and he was definitely going to quit school and move to the Anderfels, it was the only solution.

Tabris burst into hysterical laughter beside them, and he decided that his better option was to travel to Par Vollen and join the Qun.

“Maker I am so, so, so sorry.” Alistair whispered. He was sure he was blushing harder than he’d ever blushed in his entire life, and that was saying something. He straightened up and loosened his grip, thankfully having just enough sense not to drop her before she could catch her balance.

Dust gave a low laugh that somehow made his entire body tighten, and _not_ with humiliation. She let go of his shoulders, and he straightened up instantly and took a step back. He wanted desperately to look away, but she caught his gaze, holding it firmly with a look of intense concentration. And then she raised one eyebrow and _smirked_ at him before very slowly and deliberately reaching down to tug her skirt back into place. All the blood suffusing his face immediately traveled back down to his dick, leaving him so light headed he thought he might fall over.

_This must be what it feels like to have a heart attack._

“Lavellan, if you’re _quite_ finished, I’m not explaining to Vivienne that you were late because you were seducing the innocent coffee delivery boy.”

Tabris was laughing so hard she was starting to wheeze, but Dust just rolled her eyes and gave Alistair a rueful smile.

“Sorry Alistair, please ignore Dorian, he’s an asshole, but he’s _my_ asshole.”

“Technically I’m _Bull’s_ asshole, I have the necklace to prove it.”

“Mythal’s mercy Dorian _shut up_ or I am going to feed you your own mustache.”

Looking utterly exasperated, Dust glanced up at Alistair and shook her head.

Before she could say anything he blurted out. “I’m so sorry, really, I…” He wasn’t sure how he could possibly apologize enough for grabbing her ass and rubbing his hard on against her like some frat boy at a house party.

“Don’t worry about it, really, it was an accident.” She gave his bicep a little squeeze like she had the other day, before turning to Tabris with another head shake. “You are a terrible woman. I like that about you. Now please take the poor boy back to your shop before he has an aneurysm, I have to go yell at some people.”

Tabris managed to stop laughing long enough to give a little solute.

“Yes ma’am!” She said before promptly bursting back into giggles. Dust walked away with a sigh and Alistair closed his eyes briefly, continuing to long for death.

“Come on Ali, let’s go, I’ve got my orders.” Tabris, still holding the empty pastry box, skipped down the hall toward the door, obviously delighted with life. “Don’t forget your box!”

Alistair picked up the cardboard box of shame and began to contemplate how he could join the Legion of the Dead.


	3. Performance Review

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ali. :(
> 
> (She says, as she writes his suffering. )
> 
> Oh look, Dust has a PoV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is a thing now. Expect me to add clever chapter names later when I think of some.

“You know,” Dorian said, settling himself uninvited in her most comfortable guest chair, “when I said the boy was so infatuated with you he was going to start humping your leg, I didn't expect him to do it literally and in our hallway.”

Dust groaned and buried her face in her hands, careless of her makeup now that their meeting was over. Then she started laughing because the morning's disaster with Alistair was so ridiculous she couldn't help herself. The poor boy was never going to be able to look her in the eye again, which was a shame because he had very pretty eyes.

“Creators, I don't think I've ever seen anyone blush so hard in my entire life. Poor kid.”

“I'm a little shocked he had any blood flow left to blush with at that point.”

“So am I.” Appreciation seeped into her voice as she remembered the feel of a rather impressive erection pressed against her hip. Alistair was at _least_ proportional. She realized her mistake when she looked up to find Dorian wearing a look of unadulterated _glee_. “No. No, don't look at me like that.”

“I _knew_ you were interested!”

“I am not interested, I am merely _observant_. Not like I could miss it considering the proximity.”

“And?” He asked coyly.

Her lips twitched. Was there a point in trying to get out of this? Or should she simply admit defeat and appreciate the amusement factor?

“Let's just say, that while the situation in _general_ was embarrassing, Alistair has nothing to be embarrassed about in that _particular_ regard.” Dust paused and then grinned, unable to resist. He really was very pretty and _very_ nicely built. “Except possibly an embarrassment of riches. I didn't exactly have time for a full assessment.”

“And yet you're trying to convince me you're not interested. Or perhaps you're trying to convince yourself?” Creators Dorian was so fucking smug. Possibly a little bit right as well, which made it worse.

“He's too young. I'd break him in a week.”

“He seemed awfully sturdy to me when he was holding you like a hero on a romance novel cover. What exactly happened anyway? I heard a thud and then you yelled and the next thing I knew you were nearly being ravished by a strapping young barista.”

Dust gave a snort of derision. “Hardly. He tripped and almost knocked me over, then he caught me a little too enthusiastically.”

“I did notice his hand in the vicinity of your ass. I don't suppose he managed to do it on purpose?” Dorian sat forward a bit in the chair, obviously intrigued by the idea. “That would certainly be impressive.”

“Not a chance.” The number of ways men (it was almost always men) had tried to get into her physical space without her permission were many and varied, and seldom ended in the results they wanted. More than once it ended in injury. There was no way Alistair was either that slick or that much of an asshole. “I'm fairly certain he was hoping the floor would swallow him.”

“I don't think it was the floor that he wanted doing the swallowing.”

Dust bit her knuckle to try and stop herself from laughing again, but failed completely, breaking down into helpless giggles.

“Please stop. I can't handle any more inappropriate thoughts about him, he's a baby. I'm probably old enough to be his mother.”

“Kaffas could you be more melodramatic? You're 36, not 56. He's hardly a boy, he's at _least_ in his mid twenties. I'd fuck him and I'm older than you.”

“I seem to remember you saying something earlier about your asshole belonging to Bull?”

Dorian snickered. “Fine, I would fuck him were I not blissfully committed to a man who's cock is as glorious as his puns are terrible. And if Alistair hadn't been smitten with you for months.”

“Alistair isn't smitten; he works in food service. He's paid to be nice to customers. The last thing he needs is some woman old enough to be his-” Dorian glared at her “ _significantly older sister_ hitting on him. Assuming I was interested.”

Settling back in her chair she pointed at him for emphasis. “Which I am _not_.”

“Putting aside _your_ level of interest for a moment - and we will be getting back to it, never you fear - Alistair is _utterly_ smitten. Every time you brought me to the shop with you he looked at me like I'd killed and then reanimated his dog.”

Mild horror made her rear back a little from her desk. “Well that's a mental image I'm never recovering from. Why are you like this?”

“Considering how long we've known each other, and the fact that you've lived in Tevinter, I hardly think you need to ask. And don't try to change the subject. When Alistair thought we were together he was devastated. I had to bring Bull with me to the shop one day to stop the poor boy from pining to death.”

“You brought Bull to Vhenadahl so Alistair would realize we aren't a couple?” There was no way to keep the delighted grin off her face, and she didn't even want to. Dorian was such a romantic under all the bullshit, and he _so_ hated to admit it. Tugging on his single sleeve, he sniffed haughtily.

“I thought Bull would enjoy the hot chocolate.”

“You're so fucking cute when you lie.”

He glared.

“Well now you're just being rude. And the fact remains he's been much friendlier to me since he learned I wasn't standing between him and his heart's desire.”

“What was that about melodrama?” She asked, rolling her eyes. Dorian just gave her a decidedly unimpressed look, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Fine, maybe Alistair has a bit of a crush. I'm sure he'll get over it. Plus you know he’d be looking for a girlfriend, not for a woman who’d tie him to the bed and ride him like a halla.”

The smirk Dorian gave her was knowing. “Are you quite certain? Because he didn't pick up that box of his until _after_ you started talking about spreader bars and fondling your tits in front of him.”

“I was brushing off crumbs! That _you_ told me to get rid of! And I wasn't even the one to bring the spreader bars up in the first place!”

Not that she wasn't capable of using naughty jokes and a well timed brush of her hands over her breasts to seduce someone, but this time she'd been (almost) completely innocent.

“Yet after all that, there he was in the hallway, with a handful of your ass and his riches pressed against you.”

Dorian's words brought back the memory of Alistair holding her close, large hand curving over her ass, and his hard-on pressed up against her hip. It had been quite noticeable even through through his loose jeans and her very tight, very expensive suit. She made a helpless noise of protest.

“It was an _accident_ Dorian. He was trying to keep me from falling over and things got a little out of control.”

“I see… and the little maneuver with your skirt at the end, was _that_ an accident?” His tone was perfectly mild and his expression was bland, but his eyes were wickedly sharp.

 _Shit_.

“That was…” a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea. But in her defense she’d been a little addled by suddenly having a warm, muscular body and an impressive erection rubbing up against her. And it had worked out just fine! Alistair had gone from looking like he might cry to looking like he might drop to his knees and beg to wear her thighs as earmuffs. _Oh Creators… do not picture that please._ “That was just a little flirting, it’s not the same as being interested.”

Even though he wasn’t wearing his glasses, Dorian somehow managed to give the impression he was looking at her over an expensive set of frames. “Is that a new euphemism the children are using these days? Because that looked a great deal more like foreplay than flirting from where I was standing.”

Dust groaned again and propped her elbow on her desk so she could rest her head in her hand.

“Now, why don’t you tell me again how you’re _not interested.”_ Leaning back in his chair he smiled triumphantly at her.

“I want you to know that I hate you.”

“And yet somehow that doesn’t make me any less handsome, or any less correct.” His grin was so brilliantly self satisfied she could only laugh. Unfortunately he wasn’t wrong.

“Fine. He may have piqued my interest, satisfied?”

“Quite.” Dorian stood, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of his suit and walked to the door of her office. “The real question is, are you?”

He was gone before she could think of a comeback. _Bastard_. Groaning in frustration she rested her forehead on the cool surface of her desk, desperately trying _not_ to imagine Alistair on his knees underneath it. Her gods were testing her. And the worst part was, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pass or fail.

* * *

“And then!” Tabris paused, pizza completely abandoned so she could gesticulate her way through the story of Alistair’s utter humiliation. “Then! They’re standing there, all pressed up against each other, and Ali’s got his hand on her ass, and she just looks up at him and says ‘So that’s a yes to recycling the box?’”

Tabris dissolved into laughter again, and Leliana, who’d been trying very hard to look sympathetic, _lost it._ Her high, melodic voice pealed through his apartment as she laughed so hard tears began to run down her cheeks.

Zevran, good friend that he was, was still trying to cling to some semblance of sympathy, but his dark cheeks were turning red, and the corners of his mouth kept trying to turn up.

“Just laugh Zev,” Alistair instructed him glumly, “you know you want to. _Someone_ should get some enjoyment out of my suffering.”

Leliana looked up from her arms, eyes shiny with tears, her face nearly as red as her hair. “I’m sure The Crush would enjoy your suffering if you asked her nicely.”

For some reason that was the last straw for Zevran, who burst out laughing, clutching at his stomach as if he was sore from holding it back for so long.

Alistair had no idea how he’d gotten through the rest of the day at Vhenadahl. Once they’d returned from the last of their deliveries, the afternoon had passed by in one long, coffee scented, shame smudged blur. He’d somehow made it home to the apartment he shared with Zevran and locked himself in his bedroom, determined not to come out again until he thought of a suitable plan for erasing his shame or escaping from it. Then Tabris had shown up with Leliana in tow to make sure his suffering was complete. Since she’d also brought pizza and beer, Alistair couldn't hate her completely.

Zevran had gotten home from work just in time to get in on dinner and story time. Alistair was on his third bottle of beer and his fifth slice of pizza by the time Tabris reached the climax… oh Maker _no_ … the _denouement_ of her story. Thank you Professor Irving.

While Tabris was lovingly describing every detail of their brief visit to Dust’s office, Alistair had been gloomily contemplating the nature of embarrassment. He’d been embarrassed more times than he’d ever be able to count - sometimes he was embarrassed even when there was no one around to see what stupid thing he’d managed to do. Sometimes he was simply embarrassed by his own thoughts.

And he wasn’t a stranger to humiliation either. The time in Freshman year when Cullen _fucking_ Rutherford dressed him down in front of his whole unit had certainly counted. And Junior year when Morrigan kicked him out of his own dorm room before he even had time to put his clothes back on? That had been the _pinnacle_ of humiliation up until this point. Alistair was not a stranger to embarrassment or humiliation.

But this was the first time he’d understood what people meant when they said they were _mortified_. This was a level of embarrassment so intense it made you long for death, even hours after you’d humiliated yourself in front of the most beautiful woman in the world. And also _assaulted her_ in the middle of her place of business, which made it so much worse than having his bits on display in a dorm hallway. Death was the only thing that would provide the fitting level of both punishment and relief.

“Tabris…” Zevran gasped, tears rolling down over the tattoos on his cheek. “I cannot…” another desperate gulp of air “I cannot _believe_ you asked her if she made her secretary wear a spreader bar!”

“Oh come on, you’ve seen that stupid movie!” Tabris grinned at him, looking totally pleased with herself. “Plus I didn’t expect her to run with it!”

“That movie is terrible.” Leliana complained, and then hiccuped, which set her off into another fit of giggles.

“Well obviously, but come on, can you even blame me? Their firm is called _Inquisition_! And that woman is _definitely_ used to putting people on their knees and making them beg. I swear if she decided to stop herding mages she could make even more money as a pro-domme.”

“She certainly has the shoes for it.” Leliana agreed, looking calmer, if still very pink.

“And the lingerie.” Tabris added, grinning at Alistair. That managed to push through the fog of despair long enough to get some of his brain cells rubbing tog- _working_. It got his brain cells _working_. He sat up straighter in his chair and scowled at his friend.

“What are you talking about? What do you know about her lingerie?” Alistair was still contemplating how long it would take to get to the Abyssal Rift and fling himself in, but it didn’t mean he wanted Tabris gawking at Dust’s underwear. _I knew it was called lingerie._ Oh Maker, what was _wrong_ with him?

Tabris rolled her eyes. “Alistair, I was right there, and that skirt was really, really short. You grabbed her ass and the next thing I knew I was getting a peek at some very nice panties. I think there was actual gold thread in the lace.”

“Really? I wonder what brand they were.” Leliana was apparently totally okay with her girlfriend admiring _his_ crush’s panties. Panties that he’d exposed to the world when he groped her. Alistair moaned and slammed his head down onto the table. Death was definitely the only solution.

“Oh Alistair.” Leliana said, and her voice was gentle, expensive lingerie apparently forgotten. She ran her fingers through his hair, and Zevran gently rubbed circles across his back.

“My friend you mustn’t take it so hard.” Alistair turned his head on the table just enough to glare at Zevran in case he was making a pun at Alistair’s expense. Zevran was looking sympathetic again, and not like he was having a sudden attack of juvenile mental puns. _Just you then. “_ It seems like Ms. Lavellan has a sense of humor and took your mistake in stride.”

“Zevran I nearly knocked her over, groped her, and exposed her underwear to Tabris, all in the middle of her office. Just because she’s amazing enough that she somehow got through it with her dignity intact doesn't mean I'm not a horrible person.”

“Ali, it was an _accident_.” Leliana said softly. “You aren't a horrible person because you had an accident.”

“Unless you _did_ do it on purpose?” Zevran asked, voice very neutral.

“Maker no!” Alistair lifted his head to glare. “That would be awful! I would never touch someone like that without their permission.”

Zevran smiled at him, and something about the way his eyes crinkled at the corner made Alistair feel like he'd been baited.

“Oh, she'd _definitely_ give you permission if you asked.” Tabris said, words barely intelligible around a mouth full of mushroom pizza.

“Stop, that's not funny.” Alistair snapped. Not that he had ever expected to have a chance with Dust, but a mistake so spectacular guaranteed he'd never get one now. He really didn't need Tabris rubbing it in.

“Sometimes I’m still amazed by how clueless you are. It’s like you’re fifteen instead of twenty five.” She rolled her eyes before stuffing the last couple bites of her pizza in her face.

“What's _that_ supposed to mean?”

Tabris smiled, and Alistair realized she'd been waiting for him to feed her a straight line. Dammit why were his friends like this?

“It means I told them the _funniest_ part of the story, but not the _best_ part of the story.”

Zevran and Leliana both zeroed back in on Tabris in an instant. The two of them looked like birds of prey about to swoop, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. Why did he think this was going to be the _worst_ part of the story?

“So after he apologizes, Ali finally lets go, and _thankfully_ doesn't drop her like a hot potato. But instead of trying to get away, The Crush just stands there and looks him right in the eye for a couple seconds to make sure she's got his attention.”

Tabris pauses for effect and he can practically feel the Void rising to meet him.

“Then she _smiles_ at him and veeeery slowly bends over and pulls her skirt back down. And she watched him the _whole time_ \- she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. Then her partner came out of the conference room and told her to stop seducing the delivery boy and that's when she told me to take Alistair back to the shop before he died.”

Oh no. Oh _shit_. He'd been so guilty and miserable all afternoon that he'd somehow completely blocked that part out of his mind. Now his brain seemed determined to make up for lost time and began replaying the scene for him in loving detail. The arch of one perfect white eyebrow and the hot, focused look in her pale eyes. Her lips, with their dark red lipstick pulling up into a terrifying smirk. And the little wiggle of her hips as she slid the tips of her fingers under her skirt and tugged it slowly back into place.

Blood rushed to his face so fast it felt like his cheeks were on fire. All the guilt and despair gave way to a horrifying mix of arousal and embarrassment. Being mortified was so much better - so much more _dignified_. Now he was back to being embarrassed, but in a _sexy_ way, and how was that even possible? His brain finished up its replay and started making suggestions instead, showing him kneeling in front of her, sliding his fingers under her skirt…

“Oh Maker.” He choked out. Then he had to put his head back on the table because most of the blood in his face decided to go rushing south at the thought. He was so light headed he felt like he might fall out of his chair.

“This is _wonderful!”_ Leliana said, voice actually breathless with excitement. “Don't you see? She's interested in you!”

“Parts of him, at the very least.” Zevran murmured, rubbing Alistair's back again.

“Zevran!” Leliana scolded.

“I meant it as a compliment! From Tabris’ description it seems that Ms. Lavellan may have realized how… gifted our Alistair is.”

Tabris cackled. “Just how do you know about Ali's gifts Zev?”

Alistair finally lifted his head. “Stop, Maker, stop! We are not talking about my dick at the dining room table. We are not talking about my dick anywhere. We're just… not talking about that!”

“But you have nothing to be ashamed of my friend!” Zevran sounded perfectly innocent and it made Alistair want to strangle him. Tabris cackled and Alistair groaned.

“Sweet Maker, please kill me and take me to your bosom.” He prayed aloud.

Tabris snorted. “I can think of a much nicer bosom you could get taken to if you showed some initiative.”

“Stop teasing him, both of you.” Leliana ordered sternly. “This is important! Ali I know you're embarrassed, but don't you see what a perfect opportunity this is?”

He glared at her. “You said that about going to her office in the first place, and look where _that_ got me!”

“It got you exactly where you need to be! You've caught her attention, now all you have to do is keep it.”

“No.” He said firmly. His crush on Dust had been something that brought a little happiness to his life, a bright spot in his day that balanced out some of the stress. Now it was turning into something ugly, tainted by embarrassment and guilt. The thought of seeing her again still made his stomach flutter, but with dread instead of excitement. Assuming she ever came back to the shop at all. “No, I'm done with this conversation and I’m sure she's done with me. I don't need the three of you coming up with another way to humiliate me.”

“Alistair!” Leliana scolded, but he got to his feet and managed to look her in the eye, careful to focus only on Leliana and not Zevran or Tabris.

“I knew from the start that I didn't have a chance with her, and that was fine. I didn't want anything from her I just… liked her. Now she probably thinks I’m a complete and total idiot. And even if she doesn’t, I'm never going to be able to look at her again without feeling like one. So laugh all you want, I'm going to bed.”

He turned and walked very carefully back to his bedroom, determined to make it without mishap. A heavy silence followed him, but he ignored it. Once he was inside he locked the door, grabbed his earbuds off his nightstand and crawled into bed, fully clothed and completely exhausted. If he was lucky, he’d wake up and realize it was all a bad dream.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Let's just say my inspiration for this was a little less wholesome than might immediately be assumed - [this was the photoshoot that inspired this relationship.](https://nerdlingwrites.tumblr.com/post/183975888438/sustudio-2017-so-its-kind-of-amusing-that-i-saw) I think you can imagine where it was going...


End file.
